


Learning Curve

by heymacareyna



Category: Mortal Instruments Series - Cassandra Clare
Genre: AU, F/M, Fluff, High school teachers AU, M/M, Malec, alec teaches languages, future - in their late 20s or 30s, magnus teaches history
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-10-31
Updated: 2015-10-31
Packaged: 2018-04-29 05:25:23
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,942
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5117081
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/heymacareyna/pseuds/heymacareyna
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Mr. Bane definitely improved Alec’s opinion of high-school teaching.<br/>Not that, of course, Alec had ever spoken seven consecutive words to him.<br/>That would be ridiculous.</p><p>(Malec fluff. High school teachers AU.)</p>
            </blockquote>





	Learning Curve

_For Emma._

 

***

 

Alec, sometimes, wondered why he took this job. Teaching high-school-level languages? Sure, he loved learning. That didn’t necessarily translate to loving _teaching_. The late nights writing up lesson plans, the disappointing test grades, the getting up in front of rowdy high-schoolers and trying to keep their attention for an hour… Ugh. Not his dream come true.

 _But,_ he had to admit to himself, _I do like when the light comes on and I know they’ve understood._ Those moments, though few and far between, made teaching for him. So he kept at it.

And every so often, his background in psychology (and, more privately, mental health issues) enabled him to reach out to a student struggling in one way or another. And when he could convince them to talk to the school counselor—or to him—and it _helped_ … That, too, made this job worth the time.

…And he would have been lying if he didn’t say the other teachers improved his outlook as well. Like the history teacher, whose perfected use of eyeliner and glitter suggested years of practice, and whose lean build and perfect butt would have made Michelangelo swoon. Oh, yes. Mr. Bane _definitely_ improved Alec’s opinion of high-school teaching.

Not that, of course, Alec had ever spoken seven consecutive words to him.

That would be ridiculous.

 _What would I even say?_ he wondered on a Monday morning as he scraped two stacks of books into his arms. _‘Hi, my name’s Alec, and… I love history’? I can’t lie. ‘I like cats too’? No, that’s creepy. I’m not supposed to know he has a cat._ He straightened to his full height with an “oof,” leaning back to counterbalance the extra weight he was carrying. _‘I was wondering if you wanted to grade papers together sometime’—_ “Ughhh,” he groaned to himself. “Screw it. I’m never going to say anything. I’m going to ignore him for the rest of the year, and he won’t even notice.”

Sadly, that was probably true. Magnus Bane, from what Alec could tell, had a different date for each evening of the week. He had much better things (or more accurately, people) to do with his time than humor a conversationally challenged languages teacher fresh out of his master’s degree. Alec clenched his jaw and shouldered his classroom door open.

He clomped carefully down two flights of stairs and then found his way blocked by a twist-and-pull-open doorknob. “Okay,” he muttered to himself. It was still early, even for the teachers; no one was around to get it for him. “Okay.” He raised one knee, half-balanced his books on that thigh, and then leaned over to open the door with the now-free hand. It swung open agreeably, but he had to do a quick hop-step to hold it open with his hip.

Now bent over with his butt sticking out, he shuffled his books back into his arms, lowered his foot, and straightened. _Nailed it,_ he thought with a tiny satisfied smile. _And no one even saw it to make fun of my methods._

He continued down the hall, past door after door to dark classrooms. His grip on his books slipped once or twice, but he just shifted them closer to his chest. He wasn’t far now.

There—at the end of the hall hung the sign reading LIBRARY. Sighing in relief at the open door, he walked right in. The lights were on, but Clary, his sister-in-law who doubled as the full-time art teacher and part-time librarian, was nowhere to be seen. She must have run to the bathroom or something. No problem, he didn’t need her this morning.

Leaning backward, he slid his two stacks onto the return counter. Once they were all safely out of his hands, he straightened them and nodded once as if officially signing off on them. He turned to run back to his room, but then—

 _Wait!_ His eyes widened when he remembered the missing piece for today’s lesson. _I do need Clary!_ Praying she would show up in the next few minutes, he ducked through a few stacks labeled Biology – Zoology. Fiction was right behind it, and he needed to grab a few books that students could rifle through to find examples of the ten different sentence types. He reached for one of his personal favorites, then jerked his hand back. _Oh, no, I can’t give my students that._ Instead he drew out the one next to it, which contained fewer adult themes. _They might be young adults_ , he reasoned, _but they’re still kids at the end of the day._ He didn’t want to get himself in trouble, and he didn’t want to put something in front of them that would get _them_ in trouble, either. If they were his siblings, his kids, he would want their teachers to take precautions as well, given that this wasn’t an exercise for analysis and discussion.

He pulled a couple other books he knew were fine and tucked them all under one arm. The students could share them, work in groups, even use a textbook if they had to. He looked around for Clary, but still nothing. He bounced on the balls of his feet, anxious to get back to work. He couldn’t wait much longer. _Could… could I just go, and check them out later?_ he wondered, pulse hard in his throat. The thought went against his better judgment, but he needed to go, and it wasn’t like he wouldn’t return them on time. He only needed them for the next day or two.

Another minute passed, and the ticking of the clock made the decision for him. He inhaled deeply, then darted out of the library, books still under his arm. Guilt burned his face, and he kept his eyes on the ground as he bolted down the hall. When he made it to the bottom of the stairs, he blew through the door—and collided with someone who had been right on the other side. The smell of coffee splashed the air, and a deep male voice swore in a hiss.

Alec stumbled backward, books falling from his hands. “Oh, my—I’m so sorry, I wasn’t looking—” Scrambling to recollect them, he only looked up when a golden hand held out the final novel. He stared at the long, slim fingers, and tingles rose in his stomach that made him want to squirm. Slowly he reached out and took the book, and only then did he dare to glance up into the face of Mr. Magnus Bane, history teacher and god.

“Sorry,” Alec repeated, his voice sounding high and tight even in his own ears. The apology was for running into him, but then he noticed the wet splotch down the front of his sparkle-infused black button-down shirt. Oh, _no_. Embarrassment flushed hot up his neck. “I really didn’t—”

“Don’t worry about it,” Mr. Bane said with a rueful smile. “I needed an excuse to go shopping anyway.”

“No, you always dress great, and I messed…” Alec choked on his own stupid words _. Stupid, stupid, stupid._ Time to make a less-than-graceful exit. “I, uh, I gotta go.”

Clutching his books to his chest, he pounded up the stairs. If Mr. Bane replied, Alec didn’t hear him.

 

***

 

Alec could feel himself floundering through his first four classes. Stumbling over phrases, glancing at the door, touching and tapping the podium neurotically. Once or twice he saw students exchanging glances, which just made him feel worse. He let his ten-to-eleven class out a few minutes early, and once they’d all left, he closed the door behind them, threw himself into his desk chair, ran one hand through his hair, and pulled out his brown-bag lunch. Better not to eat in the teacher break room today—Mr. Bane might be there, and if Alec never saw him again, it would be too soon.

He peeled apart his Ziploc bag and pulled out a sandwich, He had watched Isabelle make it, so he knew for a fact it was perfectly fine. He took a big bite… and almost gagged. The jam tasted like mold. He gave up and spit it out into the trash can. He dropped the rest of the sandwich in, too, just to be safe. He’d put the apple in himself, so he tried that. It was fine.

As he was chewing, someone knocked from the other side of the door. He thumbed the juice from his chin and drew himself to his feet, glancing around for a forgotten textbook, backpack, something big enough to bring a student back during lunch hour.

He opened the door, his tongue already forming the words _go back to the cafeteria_ —and then his brain malfunctioned, because that was not a student standing there. Mr. Magnus Bane leaned against the doorjamb, looking for all the world like he was just stopping by to say hi. Except that… that was unthinkable.

“I’m really sorry,” Alec blurted again, unable to think of anything better.

Mr. Bane grinned, creasing the tiniest crow’s feet at the corners of his angular glowing cat-green eyes. Alec accidentally made a noise at the back of his throat that he hoped went unnoticed. “I think I’ve got it,” the history teacher chuckled. “You’ve been pretty emphatic.”

Alec looked for the coffee stain and then realized the shirt was different—green instead of sparkly black. “Did you change?” he asked stupidly.

“I did, so no need to worry.” After a moment passed and it became painfully clear that Alec had nothing intelligent or interesting to say, Mr. Bane held out his hand. “Look, you ran off so fast, I don’t think we ever properly introduced ourselves. I’m Magnus Bane, I teach history on the other side of the hall.”

Somehow Alec managed to take his hand and shake it. “Alexander Lightwood, but call me Alec. I’m language arts.”

“Oh, like what?”

“Spanish, French, and German mostly.”

“Nice,” Magnus said in an approving tone. “I spent some time in Peru and Paris, if you ever need a conversation partner.”

“What did you do there?” Alec asked, curiosity temporarily overpowering embarrassment. “Teaching?”

Magnus shook his head with a playful grin. “No, thank God. Just traveling.”

God only knew what such a force of nature got up to in foreign countries in his free time. Forcing a smile to try to look comfortable, Alec shifted his weight backward. “Well,” he started, “I’d hate to keep you from your lunch, so…”

“Oh!” Magnus started. “That was what I came for. Do you have lunch plans?”

It took Alec a second to catch up. “Me?”

“Your desk would be a much worse conversationalist, so yes, you.”

“You’d be surprised,” he muttered. His desk probably wouldn’t say stupid things because it liked the man, so that was one point in its favor.

But Magnus ignored this obvious detail. “So do you? I was thinking about running to that café down the street—I just _cannot_ eat here today.”

Alec looked down at the half-eaten apple still in his hand. “I mean… I have this…”

Magnus gave a grin that burned with mischief, with badness. “Oh, that’s true. I see your point.” Then, without asking, he reached out and took Alec’s free hand. “We’re now down to 43 minutes, including drive time. Come on.”

 

***

 

Seven minutes of driving taught Magnus that, if nothing else, Alec genuinely regretted the coffee spill. He apologized twice more before they got out to the car, and Magnus started talking just to keep him from doing it again. Part of him felt guilty for the override, but the greater part of him wanted to actually get to know the languages teacher, which wasn’t going to happen if the gorgeous man spent their lunch date (because hell _yeah_ was this a date) muttering apologies into his shoulder.

 _Come on,_ he silently urged the dark-haired man now staring out the passenger side window. _Help me out._ He needed to find something to talk about, some magic buzzword to nullify Alexander Lightwood’s fear of messing up. Because he had seen that man talking to the redheaded librarian yesterday, and the relaxed smile had dimpled his face in a way Magnus had fallen in love with. In every way you can fall in love with someone’s smile.

But for God’s sake, why couldn’t he seem to bring it out?

The comment about his speaking Spanish had almost made it, but not quite, not enough. He would have to step up his game. And, as frustrating as it was not to have the immediate click… he would have been lying if he said he didn’t enjoy the chase just a little.

They pulled into the full parking lot outside Taki’s, and Magnus saw Alec balk, just for a second, at the number of people visible inside. “Looks pretty busy,” he commented, aiming for Nonchalant. “We can try somewhere else if you want.” It would mean more awkward time in the car, but he hoped maybe a quieter place would help.

But Alec straightened his shoulders. “No,” he said firmly, “it’s fine. I’ve wanted to try their lunch menu anyway.” He glanced at Magnus, not for approval so much as agreement. As if maybe checking to make sure he was okay with dealing with a bit of a line and louder environment. Magnus felt his lower lip jut out a little in pleased surprise. “Let’s grab a table before it gets any later.”

“Sounds good.” Lips curving upward, Magnus nodded and walked toward the door, their strides matching step for step. After the pixie of a woman he’d gone out with last weekend, he sighed with a renewed appreciation for someone tall enough to keep up with him.

The sounds of chatter and shifting chairs peppered the air. They could hear each other if they leaned in a little ( _oh, no, tell me I don’t have to,_ Magnus thought dryly), but they ran little risk of anyone else overhearing them. Nice.

He knew the menu like he’d written it himself, so he pretended to ponder the options while actually examining Alec out of the corner of his eye. The blue-eyed man stared up at the signs with a slight furrow in his brow, hands jammed in his pockets, shoulders just slightly hunched against the intense air conditioning. He always seemed so focused, like whatever he was working on right that second was the most important thing he could think of… and Magnus wanted to see that focus turned onto him.

Then the kid behind the counter said, “Hey, welcome to Taki’s, what can I getchu?” and Alec did turn, his posture opening up more toward Magnus.

“Do you know what you want?”

Magnus inclined his head. “Yes, but you can go.”

Alec blinked with a little shake of his head. “Thanks.” He stepped forward and ordered, but before he could pay, Magnus put a hand on the small of his back. He jumped but didn’t push him away; Magnus counted that a victory.

“We’re together,” Magnus purred.

The cashier, to his credit, didn’t react at all. Maybe he heard that all day long and had stopped assuming anything. Which was a shame, because he really wanted people to assume that this gorgeous man was at his side for a particular reason.

They took their number and laid claim to a table to wait for their food. A waitress brought them their drinks, gave them her name, and then high-tailed it to other, less amiable customers. Magnus didn’t begrudge her the briefness at all: it gave him more one-on-one time with Alec.

“How long have you worked at Idris?” he asked, hoping work talk would serve as a comfort zone to spring from. He was more than willing to work his way to earning the Smile.

Thankfully, the question had its intended effect. Alec leaned back and sucked down some water. “This is my first year here. I did my student-teaching at the New York Institute.”

“You did?” Magnus didn’t have to force the impressed look on his face. “You must have really wowed them. That’s a hard place to get into.”

Alec turned a little pink and ducked his head at the compliment. “Thanks. I, uh, worked really hard.”

“I bet,” Magnus half-muttered. He would’ve committed any sin to have had that opportunity as a student. Louder he asked, “Is this where you want to be, long-term?” Not that he would mind if the answer was yes. Alec was easy on the eyes, even from down the hall.

Bet Alec shrugged. “It’s a great opportunity, definitely. I’ll stay here as long as I’m useful.” But those exquisite lips pressed together a bit, thoughtful. And Magnus rarely turned down a clear opening.

“But what?”

The corners of Alec’s mouth twitched. Almost, Magnus thought wistfully. “I’m just… There’s a learning curve. I’m better now than I was, say, two months ago, but I still don’t…” He trailed off and looked down at his hands.

Before Magnus could probe more, someone yelped from behind them, and he jerked toward the noise just in time to see their harried waitress stumble and drop a platter’s worth of cups. The shatter of glass silenced the restaurant, so when she collapsed with a flump and began to cry, it was painfully obvious. Magnus fully planned to turn and let her deal with it in privacy, but when he turned, his lunch date had disappeared. “A—?“ he started, half-rising to look around, and then he saw the languages teacher kneeling beside the waitress, who now seemed close to hyperventilating.

Alec’s long fingers brushed against the girl’s ankle. Apparently he found nothing to worry about, because he murmured soothing words Magnus couldn’t quite make out. She sniffled in jagged breaths, and he laid one hand on her shoulder as he coached her back into even breathing. His hand curved up at his diaphragm. “Inhale,” Magnus heard him say, and then, lowering his hand to his abdomen, “exhale.” When she continued to hiccup shallowly, he repeated the instructions just forcefully enough to make her listen and obey. A natural teacher’s voice. Magnus felt his own breath catch.

Once the girl had calmed out of the tears, Alec helped her to her feet. One of her coworkers came to vacuum up the broken dishes, and he went back to his seat with his head down, no need to be thanked or acknowledged, even though most eyes in the restaurant were on him anyway. He set his entwined hands on the table as if that settled the matter. Those stunning blue eyes flicked upward, and he offered a tiny self-conscious half-smile.

Now having an idea of why exactly the New York Institute had accepted this man, Magnus reached over to brush his thumb over Alec’s knuckles and tried very hard not to lean over the table and kiss him full on the mouth. _Oh, God, what have I gotten myself into?_

The overlapping conversations rose with the buzz of the vacuum. Magnus leaned in under the guise of wanting to hear better. “You handled that really well.”

Alec shook his head. “It was nothing.”

“Not to her.”

Rubbing one forearm, he glanced over at the girl, who was wiping the tear tracks and taking orders. His gaze eased, and the tiniest of smiles lightened his face. “I have three younger siblings. I guess my Big Brother mode just kicks in sometimes.”

Now _that_ made sense. Magnus pounced on the information. “Younger? How old are they?”

“Isabelle and Jace are 24. Max is about to turn 14.” Alec’s smile widened to brilliance for the first time, and Magnus knew he’d made the right call. “The older two are both going to be the death of me. They throw themselves into everything headfirst—act first, think later if ever, basically. But Izzy’s got her heart set on pioneering a global brand of fashion, Hot and Functional or something.”

“I believe that.” Magnus had seen Isabelle visit once. He had appreciated her taste, considered recruiting her as a shopping friend.

Alec rucked up the sleeves of his shirt as if preparing to give a lesson. “And Jace is, well, Jace. He’s still kind of figuring stuff out, but he’s been teaching martial arts and he seems to like that pretty well, so maybe he’ll keep that up long-term.

 “Max deals with the same teenage angst that everyone does, but he’s a good kid, reads a lot. He’s already good at Spanish, so I wouldn’t doubt if he’s bilingual by the time he graduates from high school.” He grinned with the fondness born of love. “They’re all so brave, so smart. They can do anything they set their minds to. It’s amazing to see.”

“Must be.” Magnus’s own grin, he knew, wore a mix of fondness and something else a little less pure. Hearing Alec praise his siblings so shamelessly… it made him look better, not worse. Somehow the gorgeous, intelligent, sensitive man had no trouble balancing all that with honest humility. A puzzle that Magnus wanted to spend a lot of time working out. “I’m an only child, and I always thought it was better that way, but you make siblings actually sound enjoyable.”

Alec laughed. “We’ve definitely had ups and downs. But I would take the bad times any day of the week over not having those three in my life.”

“They sound great,” Magnus said without having to lie. He suspected that Alec made anyone he favored sound like gods, but he had no doubt that Alec spoke only truth.

“They are.” Alec still smiled, but his eyes sobered. His siblings were no joke to him.

Magnus stilled his thumb over Alec’s knuckles and reached up to caress his face. An intimate gesture, a reassuring one. “You,” he said in a warm, quiet voice, “are a wonderful brother. They’re lucky to have you.”

He blushed but didn’t pull back. “Thanks, but—”

“No buts.” Not on this.

Those still-serious blue eyes seemed to search for something in Magnus’s face, but before he could ask what, Alec swallowed. “I was going to say, I kind of had to be,” he finished lowly, gaze skittering away at the admission. There was no pride in it, only fact and an overwhelming sense of duty. “Our parents divorced when I was 19.”

Oh. Magnus’s mouth pulled down in empathy. His own parents—he pushed down the memories of name calling, hands flying, his strangely still mother hanging from a rope of knotted sheets. A different kind of parental dissonance, but still trouble that had ripped him apart. “I understand,” he said in the same low voice. “That’s a hard place to live. I’m sorry.”

He didn’t take his gaze off Alec, and he was rewarded when those blue eyes met his again. The languages teacher, strong in more ways than his fine arms and shoulders suggested, gave a sad smile and sighed. “Thanks.”

Their food came then. Magnus was disappointed to have to release Alec, but the conversation did at least lighten. Despite the serious confession, Alec relaxed more, telling a few stories about him and his siblings from his childhood. Based on the well-rehearsed cadences in some phrases, Magnus guessed that he was being treated to a few favorites, retold frequently with the same relish each time. He focused accordingly and was pleased to discover a sense of humor—a clever wit hidden under a layer of caution—and a willingness to tease those he felt comfortable with.

 _I,_ thought Magnus with no small amount of determination, _will get there. And sooner rather than later._


End file.
